


Class Dismissed

by ThatOneGreyGhost



Category: MCU, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AD/HD Peter Parker, Angst, BI STEVE, Bi Erik, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Fluff, Gay Bucky, High school teachers AU, Im Stucky trash and I know it, M/M, Mutual Pining, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers is not as innocent as everyone believes, ace natasha, bi charles, pan tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:01:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29423493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatOneGreyGhost/pseuds/ThatOneGreyGhost
Summary: Steve Rogers is the professor in charge of Advanced Art and Drawing at The Academy for the Gifted, a prestigeous private school that is prone to attack due to the number of wealthy youths attending. Last semester's self defense teacher quit a few weeks ago, and the new one is... Well, Steve supposes there's a reason the students keep trying to set him up.Bucky Barnes got back from military tour 6 months ago, but having been a POW in a Russian proxy camp, he's still too on edge to go back to a normal life. Somehow, he gets offered a job as a self defense teacher for a bunch of kids. He didn't think he'd like the job. He thought it less likely that he'd end up drooling over the hottest art teacher he'd ever seen. The world was full of surprises.
Relationships: Cherik, Stucky
Comments: 8
Kudos: 56





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I was looking at AUs on Pinterest(because me), and this one just popped out at me? And I was like "Oh?" and then it would not leave my head. I can't say no to the muse(Even if the muse is just an idea screaming "WRITE ME!" at the top of its lungs). Also, Happy Valentine's! Or as I like to call it. Single Awareness Day(Sobs in quarantined extrovert).
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING! This fic briefly touches on the topic of suicide

"Mr. Rogers! You should draw the new SD teacher!"

Steve looks up from where he's drawing Natasha for the millionth time to give a half glare at Peter, who is visibly vibrating. He takes Advanced Art after lunch, so sometimes when he forgets his meds, he can't sit still in Steve's class. Which Steve honestly doesn't mind, but sometimes that means Peter being disruptive in class, even if it's just stimming.

"You know, every time a student has ever told me to draw a teacher, it's cuz they think said teacher is cute and they have a crush on them." Steve starts to go back to his drawing, then looks up, confused. "Wait, 'new' SD teacher?"

"Yeah, Mr. Fury quit, remember?" This time, it came from the other side of the room, and when Steve turns, he sees the silver headed Pietro Maximoff grinning at him. "Good riddance, if you ask me. That guy smelled like cats and albacore".

"Mr. Maximoff, be respectful." Steve warns, finishing his drawing. He knows that Natasha isn't into him, but the fiery redhead caught his attention some time last semester, and he hasn't been able to shake the feeling. Steve glares at the drawing, pristine and fluid, just like every other. "I need a rebound crush".

"YOU HAVE A CRUSH?" Wanda Maixmoff shouts far louder than necessary, and Steve flinches. He has to remember that these kids have exceptional hearing, and to keep his thoughts in his own head. "On who? Did you tell them? Do they like you?"

Suddenly the class is buzzing; due to the teachers living on campus, it was a well known fact that any time a teacher had a crush, it was on another member of the staff. This was especially true of the principal and the Psychology professor, who had been together for just under four years. Unfortunately, given that the principal's kids were Wanda and Pietro Maximoff, they knew that drama happened. And given that they were both students under their father, they also thought they were untouchable, despite multiple pieces of evidence to the contrary. Steve had seen them both threatened with expulsion multiple times, which never seemed to deter them from seeking out trouble.

"Ok, ok, how about this." Steve stands to silence the class, who're getting very rowdy. "If I do your gosh dang drawing session, will you lay off my love life?"

"YES!" The class says unanimously. Steve blinks in shock; he hadn't been expecting that.

"Do you swear an artist's oath not to mention it again?" Steve pushes them. He knows they won't agree to that. He's told them that the strongest thing an artist has is their word, and that they need to keep all their promises to gain the trust of their subjects. They won't make a promise they can't keep.

Except every student in the class agrees, listing punishments should they break their word. Steve groans internally, then nods.

"Alright, fine. Who's got self defense next period?" Steve nods again as Peter, Pietro, and Wanda raise their hands. "Ok, I'll walk you to the gym, spotting from the bleachers. Mr. Parker, this was your idea, you get to introduce me. Deal?"

"Deal!" Peter smiles, then yelps when the bell suddenly rings. The students start packing up, and Steve smiles.

"Ok, Who's finished? Leave the portrait on my desk, standard portfolio. Parker, Maximoffs, Morales, I want your projects on my desk by Monday and no later. The rest of you, start thinking about your midterm. We are doing open subject, so I don't want to hear about how you couldn't find anything to do." Steve gathers up his notebook and opens the door, letting students into the hallway. "Class dismissed!"

The flood of students almost knocks him over, but once the bulk of students are out of the room, he lets Peter lead the way to the gym, the Maximoff twins trailing behind him. Wanda is hissing fervently under her breath, and Pietro hisses back with the same vigor.

"You could ask him." Pietro finally says. Wanda is silent, then addresses Steve; "Professor, Do you think Ms. Romanov will be upset that I haven't practiced my hand to hand?"

Steve forces back the blush that threatens to taint his cheeks. Ms. Romanov, Natasha, Nat. Nat, who he's had a crush on for four months. He can't shake that fucking feeling, despite being turned down, despite knowing he will never have that.

"I think that she'll be more upset about having to go on hiatus than you not practicing, but honesty never hurts your case." Steve says, and its the truth; Nat went through some harsh things when she was a kid, she'd never get mad at a student. "Besides, it's the boys you really should be worried about. You know how your father's "two week" policy is".

With that, Steve opens the gym doors to see Nat correcting a student's form and an unknown brunet sparring with another. The brunet pulls away, then sticks their leg out and catches the student's ankle, dropping them. The student lands hard, and just as Steve is about to step forward, the brunet steps back, his long hair pulling away from his face just enough for Steve to see a dark scar under his left eye.

"You don't shield your legs. Your stance is wonderful, but none of you shield your legs. Jesus fucking Christ, who taught you?" The brunet slaps his hand over his eyes before sliding it down his face. "I mean, Jesus Christ, I'm not only going easy on you, but I have one fucking arm!"

Steve takes a step back at that line, and when Peter pulls him forward, he becomes aware that he's staring. The brunet does only have one arm; his left sleeve is knotted at the elbow, concealing the stump that clearly fills the rest of the sleeve. Peter tugs him forward again, this time grunting out a "c'mon!" with the effort. At the noise, the brunet turns to face them, and Steve feels like he's been sucker punched. The brunet's features are cold, calculating, observant, his square jaw set. His bright blue eyes trace Steve's face, then drop to Peter's. After a second of looking at Peter, he breaks into an easy smile, and if Steve had felt breathless before, then this was straight up suffocating. His smile was bright and relaxed, and his blue eyes, a few seconds before icy and hard, were now sparkling and kind. His tangled brown hair falls into his face, and Steve feels the overwhelming urge to push it away, to remove the offending strands that block his view of that beautiful face.

"You're late." The brunet laughs, turning his attention back to Steve, the smile quickly tucked away. "And who is this, Spider Boy?"

"I tell one person that story..." Peter grumbles, then turns to Steve. "This is Professor Rogers. He teaches Advanced Art and Drawing. Professor Rogers, this is Mr. Barnes".

"Kid, I told you to call me 'Bucky'. 'Mr. Barnes' makes me feel old." Bucky pushes his hair out of his face, frowning at the strands that catch on his fingers. "Anyone got a hair tie? I'm getting sick of this mess getting in the way".

Pietro steps forward, handing over a teal band. Bucky takes it, then frowns at it, glancing towards his arm. Steve steps forward, pulling the tie out of his hands.

"I can do it. Nat- I'm sorry, Ms. Romanov- taught me how to do this." Steve pauses as he starts to move behind Bucky. "That is, if that's ok with you?"

"Yeah, I guess I could hold still long enough for you to do that. Though I would feel better if Tasha did it." Bucky turns his back to Steve, jerking his head once in Nat's direction. "I know her, you know that? Maybe someday I'll tell that story, when we both agree its time".

"Huh." Steve twists the hair up into a sharp bun, smiling when he manages to twist the tie without pulling Bucky's hair. Nearly the second he lets go, Bucky turns quickly, and Steve takes an involuntary step back, hands suddenly raised in surrender. "Whoa, calm down. I don't want to fight".

"It's not that." Bucky flushes suddenly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just... I don't like people standing too close behind me".

"Oh. Sorry." Steve steps back again, vaguely aware that he is very red in the face. "Uh, I'm just going to..."

Steve gestures awkwardly to the bleachers, then takes two steps before he turns back, a question he's never considered before pushing out of his mouth.

"Um, can I draw you?"

"Pardon?" Bucky blinks at him, and Steve awkwardly raises his notebook. "Oh, um, yeah, I guess. It's not like I care".

"Yeah, Peter wanted me to do it. My entire fifth period, actually. I didn't think they'd be able to agree on that." Steve nearly trips on the bleachers. He wasn't aware he was walking backwards. "Sorry, I swear I'm normally way more put together than this".

"That's ok, we all have our off days." Bucky smiles, and Steve feels his heart speed up. "You can draw me whenever".

Steve turns away before Bucky has time to change his mind. He settles in the very back of the bleachers, sketching fervently as Bucky teaches the boys how to guard their legs and properly block attacks on the lower half of the body.

By the time the bell rings, Steve has six new pictures. Peter points at things he noticed Bucky doing, perfect snapshots of motion captured by memory and a pencil. If he notices that not a single student in the pictures is clearly defined outside of the gym uniform, he doesn't say anything.

Steve is up far later than he'd like sketching those ice blue eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Good afternoon, Mr. Rogers!" Steve nods vaguely in the direction of the student's voice, holding back swears as he fails once again to get the degree of shading he'd like on the scar. Yesterday, he had been flustered; today, he was tired and couldn't seem to get his drawings right. He moves his elbow to grab an eraser and ends up knocking over a glass of paint.

"Frick!" Steve frowns at the stain blemishing his notebook, then moves to clean up the mess. His students' projects are fine, but his notebook is now ruined. "Ugh, I liked that notebook!"

Steve stalks across the room and grabs a rag, wiping up the mess and trying to ignore the growing headache. He really should warn his students that he might be snippy. The bell rings, startling him and making him knock over the paint, again. For a brief second, he feels completely calm, a sign that an outburst is coming. Then he's throwing the rag against the desk, a ragged shout accompanying the action.

"Fuck!" Steve turns and stalks from the room, shouting over his shoulder, "Free period today. I want a basic outline on my des- in the project bin by the time the bell rings".

Steve barely makes it out of the room before he's running through the halls, outside in the woods outside the academy. He runs and runs and runs, barely registering the rattling in his chest until he collapses, wheezing as he fights for breath. Fuck, fuck, fuck! What the hell was wrong with him?

"Um..." The voice comes from in front of him, and Steve musters a growl before the tightness in his chest steals it. He looks up, glaring. He does *not* want to be near people right now, asthma attack be damned.

The ice blue eyes that meet his nearly shock him out of fighting for air. Bucky kneels to his level, staying back but clearly concerned. Steve feels another rattling gasp burst out of him, and as Bucky moves forward to help, he holds up a hand, warding him off. Steve takes another few minutes before the attack fades and he can breathe normally again, but now he's embarrassed and anger.

"Ok, what the fuck was that?" Bucky says, creeping closer. Steve pats the ground next to him as invitation for Bucky to approach, which he thankfully takes, sitting next to Steve and keeping a close eye on him.

"Asthma-" Steve cuts off, the asthma squeezing his lungs like a vice. "Asthma attack. It happens sometimes when I'm upset. Haven't had one this bad in a few years. I'm ok".

"Asthma- Jesus, punk. Don't you have meds or some shit to help?" Bucky says, clearly angered. "That shit could kill you! And why the fuck are you running in the woods if you got asthma! You trying to die?"

Steve shrinks away from the noise, and Bucky almost immediately quiets, a soft "ah, Jesus" snaking around him before a hand presses against his heart. Steve is so surprised he becomes aware of the tightness in his chest, and he forces a few deep breaths.

"You ok?" Bucky looks satisfied with Steve's small nod. "Good. I'm sorry I got loud on ya. I had a friend when I was little who was the same way and I swear that idiot was trying to get himself killed with the way he triggered the attacks. I guess you reminded me of him".

"I'm sorry for worrying you. It just got too loud in my head, and today has been... frustrating, to say the least. I had to get out of my classroom before I flipped out on my students".

"Has that happened before?" Bucky suddenly looks wary, almost afraid.

"Not exactly. I had a panic attack in front of them once, and now I have permission to leave the room if I feel my presence is dangerous to either the students or myself. I've never flipped out on them, but I know they'll be worried." Steve frowns at Bucky. "Speaking of class-"

"No. This is not about me. Are *you* ok?" Bucky taps his shoulder, and Steve suddenly wants nothing more than to melt into the touch.

"Honestly?" Steve watches as Bucky nods slowly, then relaxes his body. "No. I'm all wound up and I don't know why. It's loud in my head and I'm frustrated for no identifiable reason, and then I spilled paint on my notebook, twice, and it just got to be too much and I-"

Steve only becomes aware that he's crying when Bucky presses a hand against his heart again, forcing him to slow his breaths. A few deep breaths later, Steve continues.

"I just... I felt the snap coming and I just had to get out, and I didn't- I forgot- I wasn't paying attention to where I was going, and I just... ended up here." Steve leans against Bucky before he feels the brunet tense. "Shit, sorry. I wasn't thinking".

"No, it's ok-"

"It's clearly not, you practically jumped out of your skin. If touch is a thing for you, I promise I won't do that again without your consent." Steve sits up, pulling away from Bucky.

"Its- I actually- I- Ugh, I have to explain this don't I?" Bucky groans, throwing his head back. "I'm actually super touch starved, it's just that I got back from military tour 6 months ago and I kind of spent 3 years before that in a POW camp in the middle east. I don't know where exactly and they never told me, but I was serving in Afghanistan before that happened, so I don't know".

"Jesus." Steve suddenly has a thought that he's not sure he likes. "Are you ok to be around kids?"

"Yeah, I can't answer that question, to be honest. I had the same question when the principal approached me about a job, but my therapist from the VA does counseling here part-time, and he said that it might be good for me to be near kids, since they're pretty much the exact opposite of what I was exposed to. I haven't told him about Tasha, of course, so maybe not".

"Oh, that was you!" Steve smiles at Bucky's look of shock. "About three years ago, Nat applied to be a substitute here, and Erik- Sorry, Mr. Lehnsherr- just ended up hiring her on at the end of the year. She always told us that she was helped out of a bad situation by a soldier, but it wasn't until a few months ago that she told me about the... you know".

"Huh." Bucky muses on that, then nods. "Yeah, that was me. First thing I did when they got me, actually. She had been resisting them for a while, but when I got my chance to escape, I gave it to her. She needed it more than me".

Steve sits there, watching Bucky flop down onto his back and stare at the sky. A sudden movement catches their attention, and Bucky is on his feet much faster than he should have been, considering he was missing an arm. The student looks wide eyed at them, then waves. Steve recognizes him from his 3rd period art class.

"Hi, Mr. Rogers. Mr. Bucky, we found your flag." The student holds up a torn coral handkerchief, and Bucky snorts loudly. "Does that mean we win, or does it not count because, um..."

"Get your mind out of the gutter, kid. And yes, you win. You got the flag, right?" Bucky holds his hand out and the student hands him the handkerchief. Bucky turns back to Steve. "You should probably go back to your class, 'Mr. Rogers', before your students get worried".

"Yeah, probably." Steve stands, then turns to head back to the academy. At his sudden and obvious confusion, Bucky snorts again and point to his left. "Thanks".

"Hey, since you're apparently too dense to catch the subtlety, I never got your name." Bucky jokes, and Steve turns around, rolling his eyes. "Or are you ok with being addressed as 'Professor Rogers' by your peers?"

"Steve. My name is Steve".

"Steve Rogers." Bucky gives a small, private smile, then looks at Steve. "That's a nice name".

Steve runs the whole way back to the academy, trying to outrun the nagging feeling that he shouldn't feel nearly this good.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Do you like him?" Sam is asking. Steve nearly chokes on his coffee, but manages to hide it, clearing his throat loudly.

"What?" Steve asks innocently, turning to face Sam. Sam gives Steve the 'I-know-you're-hiding-something' look, and Steve tilts his head, trying to act innocent.

"Do you like him?" Sam repeats, elaborating when Steve gives him another blank look. "Is he nice, rude, abrasive? Do you like him, Steve?"

"Oh. Yeah, I like him. Steve turns back to the fridge and searching for his lunch. "Did Nat take my lunch again? I can't find it".

"You accuse me of such things, Steven?" Nat laughs from behind him, and Steve rolls his eyes dramatically. "Steven, keep sticking your ass out like that and Tony might pop you one".

"He wouldn't dare. He knows I have evidence of things he wouldn't want circulating." Steve smirks at Tony's suddenly rigid form in the corner of his eye. "Yes, I still have those. Wouldn't want them to 'accidently' end up on Erik's desk".

"You- Why do you still have those?" Tony protests, smacking Steve's side.

"Mm, blackmail." Steve smiles at Tony's choking noise. "I'll get rid of them soon, don't worry. It's not like I still look at them".

"Stark, you send people nudes or something? You work at a school!" Steve nearly drops his lunch when Bucky speaks up, and he stands quickly, turning and catching his eye. "And you, you keep that shit? Nasty!"

"Only to blackmail him. It wasn't something I'd want to hold onto." Steve smiles at Tony, who returns the smile easily. "I've seen better, Tony".

"WOOOOOW! Ok, I see how it is!" Tony laughs as Nat chokes on her coffee and Sam grumbles "every damn time". Somewhere in the back of the room, Bruce pipes up with "Do I have to come back?", and Steve shakes his head, beckoning Bruce forward.

"Blackmail, huh? What happened to the awkward virgin act, Stevie?" Bucky purrs, and Steve isn't laughing anymore. Nat turns and gives Bucky a confused face, which helps a lot, because if Nat didn't see that coming, then his reaction won't seem out of place.

"Stevie?" Tony parrots, shutting the fridge with his foot. "What the hell, Steve? Are you two a thing or something?"

Bucky goes pale when he hears that, then very red. He mutters something about how "it just slipped out", and Steve remembers the conversation they had in the woods a few days ago.

"That friend you told me about, he had the same name as me?" Steve notices how much Bucky relaxes as he nods. "I must remind you of him a lot".

"A lot of it is you guys are so similar. Honestly, you threw me for a bit of a loop when you asked to draw me. He did that too." Bucky munches on some grapes, then stares out the window. "I wonder what happened to him".

"Weren't you friends?" Nat teases, and Bucky rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, but I haven't seen him since I was, like, 9. I shit you not, for the 3 years I knew him, I was his best friend. He was real sick and scrawny, and he'd pick a fight with anything that moved".

"Sounds like a handful." Steve muses.

"Oh, you have no idea. That little shit shaved half the years off my life, I swear. He had no respect for his own mortality, and what's worse was he'd throw a fit when I saved his skin".

"Wow, Steve, sound familiar?" Sam nudges him, and Steve scoffs.

"That's different, he was hitting a kid. You would have stepped in, too."

"I would have fought the guy off, not acted like a human shield. I mean, jeez, Steve, you know you're only human".

"You would have- You know what? No." Steve glares at Sam and Nat, who are both stifling giggles. "I'm not playing that game".

"What game?" Tony asks innocently.

"This game where you get me all riled up and then use it as proof that I pick fights too easy!"

"We don't do that".

"YOU'RE DOING IT RIGHT NOW!"

"Stevie, calm down, you'll set your asthma off." Bucky's hand is over his chest, and Steve's breathing slows. "There. Now, can you at least admit you get wound up too easy? Cuz I can't imagine trying to deny it after that display".

"Ok, maybe." Steve turns back towards the fridge to put his food away, he's not going to finish lunch, when Sam's expression catches his attention. "What?"

"'What'? 'What'? 'What' is what the hell was that? I've never seen you calm down that fast, ever." Sam gestures wildly at Steve. "He's been here for five days, and you already trust him enough to touch your chest?"

"It's not a big deal, Sam, I told you. He's solid in my book." Steve turns to get Bucky's affirmation, but he and Nat are gone, leaving only Sam, Tony, and Bruce. "Besides, little late for me to withdraw trust".

"What's that mean?" Bruce asks, pouring himself a cup of coffee, his lab coat stained and wrinkled.

"Jesus, Bruce, do you ever wash that thing?"

"A student spilled coffee on me when I was confiscating it for a lab. You didn't answer my question".

"He, uh... I kind of freaked out the other day and went for a run. Ended up having an attack in the woods, where he was doing capture the flag with his gym class. He found me and helped me calm down".

"You hate being near people when you melt down." Tony says skeptically. Steve shrugs, then glances at the clock. Three minutes until the bell. Three minutes until he can escape this conversation.

"Steve, seriously, did something happen between you two? I know you've been taking Nat's 'no' pretty hard-"

"God, Tony, no! Jesus, why does everyone go straight to sex? I was having a bad day and he just sat with me until I felt stable enough to go back. It's not a big deal".

"Ok, but you hate being found." Sam counters.

"He's new, and he didn't push his boundaries. I didn't want to snap at him so I just glared at him hoping he'd go away".

"You had no problem snapping at me." Sam steps forward, and Steve recognizes his stance, his 'therapist mode'. Steve holds back a groan. "Steve, I'm serious. I know you've been taking the whole thing with Nat pretty hard-"

"Sam, that was a month ago." Steve groans.

"Yeah, well, you broke up with me six years ago and you were mopey and sad for like 4 months before you finally could stand to talk to me again." Tony interjects. Steve growls, then glares at Tony.

"I'm. Fine." Steve refills his coffee and heads for the door as the bell rings. "And you should be getting to class".

Steve pointedly ignores the little voice in his head that mentions that for the first time in 4 months, he's not drawing Nat in his personal notebook.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Mr. Rogers, are you ok?"

Steve is staring at the picture in his notebook, his chest tight and his breathing labored. It's a picture of a picture, the original photograph lost to time. It's a picture of his best friend from when he was little. The initials in the corner read "S.G.R+J.B.B.", and when Steve had screened this notebook to show to his class, he hadn't seen this picture. He must have missed it. He should say he was fine, make a joke about the past and move on. Except he couldn't. Those ice blue eyes looked so familiar...

"Professor Rogers!" Steve snaps back to the present. Peter is shaking him, fear prominent in his actions. Steve shakes his head again, then turns the page.

"I'm sorry. I haven't seen that picture in... 15 years or so? I think I drew the copy when I was 13? Yeah, threw me off a little." Steve gives a light smile, then shakes his head again. "I mean, my memory is perfect, you'd think I'd remember that".

That gets a laugh out of the class; they all know about his eidetic memory, and it's extreme fastidiousness towards minor details. Steve manages to brush aside the strange feeling in his stomach until the class is dismissed, but when he's cleaning up the room, he leans against the counter in the back at a strange angle and suddenly the ache transfers from his stomach to something else. Steve steps back, then glares at the bulge in his pants.

"Are you shitting me." Steve grumbles, ignoring his little problem in favor of cleaning the room.

He gets it half done before frustration over take him. This, this little problem is the product of everything he's been feeling, and also an example of why he's been feeling it. He's not snippy for no reason, like he thought a week ago when he had his asthma attack. He's horny, and he knows exactly who is on his mind that's causing his discomfort.

"Well, fuck." Steve grumbles. A small chuckle alerts him to the presence of someone else.

"You have far less tact when children aren't involved." Charles laughs as Steve blinks, then sits down, gesturing to his desk. Charles moves his wheelchair to sit behind the desk, absently picking up Steve's notebook, the leather surface well worn. "May I?"

"Of course, Charles." Steve watches as Charles manages to turn to the exact page that had shocked Steve not thirty minutes prior. Charles gives a small smirk, then closes the notebook, looking up at Steve.

"You love him." Charles says simply. Steve goes very pale until Charles taps the notebook. "The boy in this picture, you love him".

"Loved." Steve corrects. "I don't know what happened to him. He moved away when I was 8. But yes, he was my first love. My first crush, long before I knew what the word actually meant".

"He looks familiar." Charles smiles again, and Steve notices how much more relaxed he is around Charles. The man seems to have that effect on everybody; he's kind, and patient, and anyone who knows him knows that he does not easily lose his temper.

"He almost looks like our new addition. Our Mr. Barnes, if you will." Charles suggests, and Steve finally allows himself to admit what he's known for a while.

"I guess he kind of looks like Bucky." Steve shrugs, trying to pass it off as nonchalant. Charles simply watches him, allowing the silence to bring Steve to the conclusion he already came to. "Ok, I might have a small crush. He looks like my childhood crush, big deal. I hardly know anything about him, so it's not exactly something that'll be discussed".

"I think, Steven, you allow yourself to suffer in silence because you are waiting for someone. I think, no, I strongly believe that you never forget your first love, and that when you look for love, you look for the traits that person carried." Charles gives a sad smile. "I know that is true of Erik and I. We knew each other long before we became lovers, and I don't know if that is why we became lovers, but I do believe we were in love before we knew what the word meant. It isn't outrageous".

"That seems too convenient for me." Steve says, shrugging again.

"What did you love about him?" Charles taps the cover of the notebook, and Steve has a sudden memory of a brunet with blue eyes laughing at him, asking to see his pictures ven though he had said they weren't ready. Steve feels his breath catch; how had he forgotten that?

"I..." Steve decides to answer honestly, but only for the first few traits. "I liked that he was honest. He was honest and loyal and funny and patient and kind. He liked buttercups even though everyone said that was a girly thing and that boys didn't like flowers. He wore pink and sang songs that he made up and he was always humming, even when he *had* to be quiet. He was the only person who ever believed I could actually make it as an artist, and he always smelled like bubblegum".

Steve had intended to stop after a few things, but once he starts, he can't stop. Memories swirl in his mind, and he can't stop.

"He had this stupid orange beanie that he wore literally everywhere and called it style. He had an older sister who taught me how scam someone out of six dollars in a row, and he was always stealing my erasers because I "Couldn't get rid of my art without looking at days of work as I ripped it to shreds". He taught me the constellations, and I'm 90% certain he made some of them up, but he was such a great storyteller that I didn't care. He taught me all the words to "Bohemian Rhapsody" and he doodled on his left arm when he was nervous. He beat someone up when they called us "queer" for hanging out all the time, and he taught me how to fight properly, because according to him, if I couldn't stay out of trouble, he might as well teach me how to get out of it".

Steve realizes he's crying, and he slowly places a hand over his heart, pressing much harder than necessary. The motion feels familiar, much too familiar. He calms down enough to finish speaking, but he can hardly hear what he's saying.

"I remember we were both poor, and one day, on my 8th birthday, he told me that his family was talking about moving to the mountains, and the next day, he was gone. I think his parents skipped town, but I never saw him again. I remember I cried every night for 3 months because he was my best friend, and he was just gone".

Charles nods, and Steve wipes his eyes, hiding his face. He remembers now, how he had screamed himself hoarse when he'd found out that his friend wasn't coming back, that he was gone forever. He remembered drawing the picture in middle school before it was lost to the fire that took his mom, remembered that he drew so many other things in that notebook and then put it aside, left his memories to decay, to rot into nothing. How he forgot because it was too painful to remember.

"Steve?" The voice catches his attention, and Steve looks up from where he's crying at one of the tables to look at the door, where the voice came from. Bucky is standing in the doorway, concerned but hesitant to approach. Steve sniffles, then beckons him forward, where he takes a seat to Steve's left.

"On your left." Bucky smiles, nudging him with the stump of an arm. Steve feigns disgust, which gets a laugh out of them both. "What's up with you? Charles just came out and said that you were crying".

"I'm ok now." Steve lies, faking a smile. It must not be very convincing, the way Bucky scrunches his nose. "I was thinking about an old friend, and I guess I got to thinking".

"We're all doomed." Bucky mutters. Steve swats Bucky's shoulder, frowning. "Ok, ok! Jeez, nobody here can take a joke".

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, I was talking with Tony-"

"God help us".

"-AND he mentioned being sorry for the whole 'blackmail' incident the other day".

"Oh, Lord save us." Steve buries his head in his hands. "You asked if he had any of me, didn't you?"

"I would never!" Bucky feigns offence, but his pink cheeks betray him. "But, yeah, I don't know. I was in the army, what do you people expect from me?"

"To not be dirty minded. There are kids here".

"In the teachers' lounge?"

"You'd be surprised. Living on campus with the students really does wonders for that "You're my superior and therefore I should be scared" complex." Steve laughs when he thinks about Peter's request from last week. "In fact, my students have gotten wise to the fact that I don't draw people unless asked, and given an incident from a year ago involving a picture I was drawing for Charles' birthday, they now ask me to draw people anytime there's anyone new on campus. Which happens a lot".

"So where do you sleep? I know that there's always at least two chaperones in the boy's dorms, and two in the girl's, but I haven't met the other chaperone yet and I don't know how that works".

"Oh, you're paired with Tony right now, and he does that towards February. He's prepping for murder season".

"Sorry, what?" Bucky stares at Steve like he just grew antennae. It takes Steve a few seconds too long to figure out why.

"Oh, sorry. You must have gone straight from high school to the military. That, or never been to a college that did this. It's a game. It normally starts at the end of March to take off some of the stress going into finals, but we start ours in Mid-January, tomorrow, actually. Everybody participating gets a spoon with somebody's name on it, and you have to 'Kill' whoever's on the spoon. If you succeed, you get their spoon, and you then have to 'kill' whoever's on that spoon, unless they're dead. Then it goes in a bucket. Whoever has the most spoons come Mid-February wins. Last year all the professors played and the prize was a "no homework" pass that was good for the rest of the semester. It could be used in any participating professor's class, but only once. I think one of my kids won it and then gave it to a friend who hadn't played".

"Oh. That actually sounds like fun." Bucky smiles, then fakes a thinking face. "So, I have, what, twelve hours until the whole campus goes nuts? That's going to make class fun".

"Well, some basic rules are that you can't "kill" in class, you can't use anything that could remotely pass for a real weapon, you can't kill someone while they're naked, you can't kill someone if you don't have their spoon, and you can't reverse kill." Steve catches Bucky's confused expression. "That means if you kill someone at the same time they kill you, it doesn't count. If you deploy independent measures and somehow still end up dead at the same time, both are considered dead and all spoons on both people are taken out of play. This does mean we can end up with students who are technically playing but can't be killed, but in that event, we recirculate spoons randomly as a side quest".

"That's actually really cool. It's like Mafia, but real life." Bucky grins, and something about the gesture twists Steve's heart, the twinge shocking him. "That's actually awesome! I'm 100% on board with that idea".

"You say that now, but wait until you get beaned in the face with a hacky sack. Or shot with a nerf gun. I had a student last year who applied fabric safe glue to the darts and would shoot people, then yell that they had been "nerfed". He got away with a lot of in class kills that way. Tony ended up taking him out with a paint filled water balloon".

"That's hilarious. I want to see this happen".

"It's certainly made Valentine's day interesting." Steve muses, then pulls Bucky to his feet. "Come with me. I want to take you to my room".

"Whoa there, Rogers! Buy me a drink first." Bucky laughs, and damn if he doesn't have the cutest laugh ever. Steve wrinkles his nose, then pulls Bucky along, taking him upstairs to the sixth floor, where the teachers live.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You've never been up here before, have you?" Steve says as they enter the common room. Bucky's wide eyes and open mouth answer for him. 

"So, we have a kitchen up here, which is why we don't always eat with the students. Every teacher has their own room, and we work on a rotating schedule for chaperoning the dorms, which is a month off, two months on. And it's not always the same dorm. The middle school aged boys don't room with the high school boys, and even high school is separated by lowerclassmen and upperclassmen. You're with... Freshmen/Sophomores?" Steve feels pleased with himself when Bucky nods. "Right, so you're going to be there for another month and a half, give or take, and then you'll get your own room for a month. Then they'll probably move you to the upperclassmen, then off, then middle school. it overlaps so that... Using you as an example, Tony's off in February, and he'll be replaced by Bruce. Then you're off, replaced with me. Got it?"

"Yeah, but it's kind of confusing. Like, do you really need it like that?"

"Yes." Steve says, laughing. "I tell you, before Tony and I had that brief stint of... whatever the hell it was, we were at each other's throats whenever we had to spend more than a day sharing the same space. The rotation means that when- not if, when- you get paired with someone you don't click with, you only have to spend a month with them, then you get a two month break before starting again. It goes like that until the school year's over".

Steve twists the knob to open his door, and it breaks off in his hand. Steve stares at it for a minute, then frowns while Bucky dies laughing behind him. Steve glares at Bucky, who doesn't try very hard to stifle his laughter.

"You think this is funny?" Steve says, exasperated.

"I'm sorry, but your fa-hahahahahha!" Bucky clutches his stomach, giggling as he nearly falls over. Steve tries not to laugh, but Bucky's bubbly laugh is so honest its infectious. "You looked- you- Ahahahahaha- you- you looked so mad!"

Bucky gasps for breath, then dissolves into laughter. Steve snorts, then starts laughing himself, a small wheeze turning into barking laughter as he sits on the floor next to Bucky, both of them starting again when one looks at the other.

"Ooooohha." Steve sighs loudly when he finally can stand to look at Bucky without bursting into laughter. "Ah. I don't think I've laughed that hard in months".

"Months?" Bucky looks at him with a face that's supposed to convey hilarity, but sobers instantly when he sees Steve is serious. "Months? Jesus, Stevie, that's not good for you! You're supposed to laugh at least three times a day, you know that? It's good for your body, for your immune system".

"Explains why I'm always sick." Steve smiles, but it doesn't feel real. Bucky grabs his face, forcing him to look straight into those ice blue eyes.

"Hey. I'm serious. You need to laugh more, Stevie, it's not good for you if you don't." Bucky takes on an expression that Steve rarely sees anymore, now that Bucky's warmed up to him. "I will make it my goal to make you laugh everyday for the rest of the school year, if that's what it takes. Don't kill your smile, ok?"

Steve doesn't know if Bucky knows what he's saying, but he nods, which gets Bucky to release him. They enter Steve's room, which isn't very impressive, but it's quaint, and Steve has letters from students that have graduated adorning the walls, and pieces of art from some of those students. Steve catches sight of a bottle of lube he left out on the bedside table, quickly swatting it away, hoping Bucky didn't see. He turns back to find the other man eyeing him.

"Suspicious." Bucky says, and Steve feels himself go red.

"I just- You don't need to- I-"

"Calm down, Rogers, I'm just teasing. Most everybody has sex, you aren't surprising me with any new information." Bucky shrugs, then steps forward, almost stalking towards Steve, as if he were some kind of wild animal. "Though, I've never seen edible lube before. You got a special provider or do you machine it in house?"

"Would you like a demonstration?" Steve replies, stepping forward to meet Bucky's eye level. Now that they're up close like this, Steve can see how Bucky is just a few inches shorter than him, how his icy blue eyes are much softer up close, how his chapped, pink lips press together when he swallows. Steve almost licks his lips, barely restraining the urge to kiss Bucky, kiss him hard. Bucky locks eyes with him, and Steve sees his chance.

He doesn't take it. It's too soon for him; if Bucky takes it badly, he doesn't think he could handle it, especially not after he was just getting over Nat. Instead he pulls away, backing up and letting Bucky have some breathing room. Bucky has something cold flash in his eyes before he pulls back, almost disappointed.

"I'm sorry." Steve murmurs. "I got ahead of myself. I must have made you uncomfortable".

"Ты чертов идиот. Это, или вы не заинтересованы, и я не уверен, что еще хуже[You are a goddamn idiot. That, or you're not interested, and I'm not sure which is worse]." Bucky says harshly before he all but storms from the room, shutting the door behind him. Steve stares at the door, then at his hands, one of which is holding the lube and the other holding the doorknob. He sits on the bed, watching the door for a minute.

"What did I do?" He whispers, tears cooling his flushed cheeks. "What did I do wrong?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steve turns on the lights to see Pietro slumped over in his seat, holding a large foam sword in his armpit. Steve pinches the bridge of his nose in his fist. Of course they'd give him the first murder. Steve dials the hotline, then says very clearly the opening speech.

"Attention, Academy. There's been a murder. Pietro Maximoff has been found dead, impaled by a broadsword. The season is now open. Please, stay safe and remember that you will be removed from the playing field if you break the rules. Happy hunting!"

The students in his class start cheering when he hangs up and puts a single red line on the chalkboard. Even Pietro starts laughing when Steve points at him with a large ruler that says "You're dead" on it. Peter starts chanting "First kill, first kill!" and soon after Steve knows he's not getting control of the class. Wanda takes out a black body crayon and draws X's over Pietro's eyes, laughing the whole time.

"Professor, are you playing?" Peter asks. Steve smiles, then shrugs, giving a very obvious wink. "No way! Who'd you get?"

"I'm afraid I'm not telling. That being said, you better hope is not one of you, because I will kill you when you're not looking." Steve smiles again, and the class begins laughing.

"It's not you, you would have definitely tried to do first kill and then brag about it." Wanda says at the same time Pietro says "It's not him".

"Shush, ghost!" Steve points the ruler at Pietro again. "Don't make me get out the banishment stick".

"NOOOOOO! Not the banishment stick!" Pietro waves his hands and then laughs, the bell ringing loudly as the period ends. Students start laughing as they walk out, Steve rolling his eyes, then he follows Pietro. He has a plan, and he's not entirely sure it's going to work. Pietro laughs and chatters with Peter the whole way to their gym class, and Steve watches as Bucky purposefully bumps into students to scare them. Steve comes up and bumps his shoulder, slipping him a cookie with a note on the bottom. Bucky turns and gives him a quizzical look.

"You said I could draw you whenever, right? Plus, I need examples to show my students for our "Subjects in motion" unit next month." Steve gives a shy smile, watching as Bucky slips his hand in his pocket and draws out the note. He gives the cookie a quizzical look, then shrugs.

"I did say that. Sit down and shut up, kay?" Bucky bites into the cookie as he reads the note, then gives a small laugh. He looks Steve directly in the eye, mouths 'no', then dramatically fakes choking, scaring the crap out of all the students.

"I've been murdered!" Bucky falls to the floor and makes a dramatic face, the cookie on his chest oozing raspberry jam. Then he smiles and gets up, winking at Nat. Steve frowns, then glares at the note on the floor, the note which reads "I have your spoon. Help me kill Tony and you'll live. The cookie is "poisoned", so if you still hate me, just pretend you got murdered".

Steve spends the entire 56 minute period sketching Bucky and a few other students who are brave enough to ask. After the bell rings, Bucky treks up the bleachers, standing in front of Steve, poking him with a water bottle.

"Hey." Bucky says. Steve looks up just long enough to show he's listening. Bucky hums, then continues. "I don't hate you. You know that, right? I just... I got flustered is all. I haven't had anyone stand that close to me in... a while".

Steve looks up, then sits back, which Bucky takes as invitation to continue.

"I got flustered, and I mean, I reacted badly, I know. I'm sorry".

Steve closes his notebook, then pats the bleachers next to him. Bucky sits down, then leans on Steve's shoulder, his head resting against Steve's cheek. Steve doesn't quite know how to react to that, so he just holds still, hoping Bucky won't freak out when he realizes what he's doing.

"I'm super touch-starved right now, so just pretend I'm not here, ok?" Bucky murmurs, relaxing as Steve does. "I'm really sorry, I flipped out on you yesterday and now I'm just leaning on you, I-"

Bucky cuts off when Steve puts his arm around Bucky, giving a light squeeze before pulling back. Bucky looks at Steve, who gives a gentle smile. Steve might not know much about Bucky, but he does know love languages, and being as someone who receives affection primarily through touch, he knows that being touch-starved is fucking hell.

"Take your time." Steve murmurs, sketching the wrinkles on Bucky's shirt as Bucky leans more heavily against him. And something in him loosens when Bucky's breathing begins to even out, right around the time he's fixing a strand of hair for the fifth time.

"Do you really think I look like that?" Bucky mutters.

"What do you mean, 'do I think'? That is what you look like." Steve laughs at Bucky's obvious frown. "Methinks someone doesn't like how he looks very much".

"I like how I look just fine, I just think it's weird you're not drawing me like the greasy trash hobo I am".

"You do not- greasy trash hobo?"

"Have you *seen* me, Steve? I look like I just crawled out of the dump, and that's on my good days".

"I- You- NO!" Steve shouts, sitting up and dislodging Bucky. "You- You're smart and kind and trusting and funny and- You are-"

"Stevie, I'm fine with how I look, I just-"

"Shut up." Steve places a hand against Bucky's mouth, which earns his a raised eyebrow, but nothing else. "I refuse to let you talk about yourself that way, ok? You look fine. Better than fine, you look gorgeous! You're kind, and funny, and sweet, and it doesn't matter what you look like, you have a beautiful soul and it shows, ok? I don't know how you can be ok with talking about yourself like that, but I'm not going to let it happen, ok?"

Bucky nods behind his hand, and he pulls it away, breathing hard. Steve pushes his hand against his heart, forcing deep breaths, pushing back tears. He knows why he reacted the way he did, but he wasn't planning on telling anyone today, and it's going to fuck with him.

"Stevie?" Bucky taps his shoulder, and Steve leans into the touch. "Hey, what's wrong? What did I say?"

"It's not- well, it is you, but I honestly hadn't expected to talk about this today." Steve looks up at Bucky, the first tears slipping over his eyelids. "When I was younger, I had- I have, I still have it, I-"

"Hey, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to." Bucky says, but Steve shakes his head. Every time he talks about this, he hears the same things, and it hurts like hell.

"I have cancer." Steve mutters. Bucky pulls back suddenly before his hands catches Steve's. "I know it doesn't show, but I got it in my heart and lungs. It's why I was so sick as a kid, and why I get so sick now. I've had it my whole life, but there's something about my immune system that fights it off, just not entirely. If I wasn't on meds, I'd be dying. I *am* dying, just slower now".

"Oh my God." Bucky murmurs, and Steve prepares for the usual questions; "How long do you have left?", "How come you don't look sick?", "Why aren't you getting treatment?", all that.

He does not expect Bucky to ask "So these meds keep it from spreading?".

"Um- Yeah, yeah. They do, they- I don't know exactly how they work, Bruce made 'em. All I know is once a month I go get an IV for fifteen minutes and I don't die. It's why I don't look like I'm dying".

"Everybody's dying. You could walk past people who will die today and they won't look like they're dying. There's only those who look alive and those who look close to death." Bucky muses, sitting forward. "But I don't understand what this has to do with me calling myself a trash hobo".

"Because... I thought like that. I was skinny and sick and tired all the time, and when I started here, I was just done. I stopped chemo because I was tired of being tired, and I was broke. And a month later, I collapsed on the floor in the middle of my art class." Steve shrugs, then absently sketches in his notebook. "I woke up in the hospital a few days later, in remission because of something Bruce did to stabilize me on the way to the hospital. It's not complete remission, but it's manageable".

"And that's why you don't look scrawny?"

"Yeah. But I was so tired, Bucky. I was actually closer to remission than I thought when I was on chemo. A few more months and I would have been completely healthy. And I stopped. I stopped because I was tired of looking at the sick face in the mirror, tired of people pretending to sympathize while secretly wanting me gone. I felt like a scrawny, weak, crippled little nobody, and it's part of the reason I tired to let myself die. My low self-esteem dragged me around, made me believe that the fight wasn't worth it. And it nearly killed me, Buck. I can't-" Steve is crying freely now. "I had a student who almost killed herself because of how she felt about her body. She told me the only reason she didn't was because I would always tell her she was a very talented artist. She said she didn't kill herself because she didn't want me to be sad. Do you know how horrifying that is, Bucky? To be the only reason someone is alive instead of dead? I didn't have that when I needed it, and I refuse to deny it to anyone else. I can't listen to you saying you look bad, because all I can hear is someone saying "I'm going to let myself die". And I can't hear that, I can't, I-"

The sobs that have been pushing on Steve's throat finally close off his airway, the choked sobs pushing through gasping wheezes as he fights for air. Bucky presses a hand to his chest, grounding him, reminding him where he is. Slowly, he regains control of his breathing, and Bucky pulls his hand away, nodding.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize this was such a big thing for you. I honestly think that I look fine, but I feel like a mess, and I guess sometimes that makes it hard for me to remember that I'm doing ok. But I'm not going to kill myself." Bucky pauses, then turns to face Steve, looking up with tears in his eyes. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"Yeah".

"I'm dying too. Not as quickly as I would be if I had cancer, but I am." Bucky looks away, anger hardening his features. "When I was captured, the camp I was at had funding from the Russian military, and there were a bunch of Russian doctors there that did experiments on the prisoners. One of them fucked with me, screwed up my metabolism, speed it up. All my organs are aging faster than they should be. Doctors said I'd be lucky to make it to 55. I'm dying, slowly, but I am. That's terrifying, you know. I'm 29, for Christ's sake! To be told that half my life is gone already, I-"

Bucky scowls at the floor.

"I'm not going to kill myself. Not if this is all I have left. I'm not going to let anything kill me. I get maybe twenty more good years, and I intend to live all of them to the max. No stupid Russian fucks are going to have the satisfaction of getting me dead in what should be my golden years".

Steve nods, then glances away. He shouldn't feel this relieved that he's not the only freak.

"55, huh?" Steve asks. Bucky nods, and Steve smirks. "53. You get a few more years than me, but I guess you earned it".

"53? That's a weird number." Bucky cracks a smile, the kind of smile that comes with morbid humor. "Almost as weird as the rest of you".

"Yeah, well, it's Bruce's fault. That's what he gives me, unless he makes a better version of the meds. It doesn't bother me so much now, but it did a lot when I first got them. Almost stopped taking them, but thankfully nobody let me make that mistake twice".

"It stopped bugging you?"

"Well, it does sometimes. I mean, Charles is 45 and Erik is 47, and they're half way through their lives. They have time, and that's not something you or I get. It kind of sucks, but I can live with it. It's kind of relieving, knowing when you're going to die".

"You are so morbid." Bucky shoves him.

They leave the gym and get dinner together, spaghetti and meatballs from the kitchen upstairs. Steve's pretty sure that it's the best thing he's ever tasted, and if Bucky makes him laugh so hard spaghetti comes out his nose, who is he to say it wasn't a good way to spend his evening?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"There's been a murder!" Someone yells, and Steve looks over at the student who's painted their face blue with black X's over their eye. Bucky sits next to him, chuckling.

"Happy February, by the way." Bucky pokes Steve in the ribs as he rolls his eyes. "Geez, how many players are there?"

"I think there's something like 623 this year. Less than last year, but that's cuz we had an influx of new students who weren't fully aware of it. Next year it should be back to normal".

"What's normal?" Bucky asks as Nat sits in front of Steve. "Hello, Tasha".

"Normal is... Mm, I don't know, a thousand?"

"A thou- That's like half the school!"

"Yeah, that sounds about right. Morning Nat".

"Good morning to you both. Steven, Bruce wants to see you".

"Bruce wants to- Oh, shit! Right, right, right." Steve gets up to leave, nearly spilling his juice. Bucky catches it, then looks up, confusion on his face.

"Um..."

"It's the first of the month. I told you about the meds." Steve tilts his head, and Bucky's eyes get wider when it clicks. "Yeah, that's today. I shouldn't have eaten anything, I'm probably going to throw up".

"Hey, be careful." Bucky says. Steve scoffs, smirking.

"Yeah, I don't really have any control over that".

"Then just die, I don't care. Geez, I try to be nice and I get a face full of sarcasm." Bucky laughs when Steve flips him the bird discreetly. "Just go get better".

Steve gives an easy smile, then walks towards the elevator. Nat tails him, standing next to him as he goes to the medical wing on the second floor. The entire time she stands next to him, he gets the feeling she wants to say something.

"You told him." Nat says after a moment.

"Yeah, it just kind of happened." Steve replies. What does Nat want?

"You've never told anyone that fast before".

"He's just really easy to talk to, I guess." Steve shrugs. "He makes me feel comfortable. I like talking to him".

"He makes you comfortable." Nat says, scorn creeping into her voice.

"Yes, Nat. Why is that such a problem? Maybe I just warmed up faster to him, ok?"

"Steven, I'm worried for you. I know you were disappointed when I turned you down, and I also know that you don't always handle emotions well. It's possible-"

"It's possible that's none of your business, Nat." Steve snaps. Nat immediately steps back, holding up her hands. Steve stares straight ahead, focusing on his breathing.

"Steven, I meant no offense. I just don't want to see you hurt if James doesn't reciprocate. I don't think it would do you good to be rejected when you're still-"

"I'm over you, Nat." Steve says harshly. "I have been, and my love life is none of your concern. If you were really concerned for me, you'd be telling me why he's bad for me, and not that he might break my heart. I know he might break my heart, that's a hazard of love. If I was afraid to love because I might get rejected, I wouldn't have a life worth living".

"Steven-"

"Stop pretending you care about me, Nat." Steve opens the door to Bruce's office, shutting it behind him. Bruce looks up, the look on his face indicating Steve had shut the door much harder than he meant to. "Sorry. Nat seems to be under the false impression that I'm delicate".

"Ah." Bruce goes back to prepping the IV, and Steve thinks about the conversation he had with Bucky two weeks ago.

"Hey, Bruce?" Steve lays back on the exam table and lets Bruce attach the IV. "How does this stuff work again?"

"It's genetically tailored to your DNA, so it targets the cancer cells. It's similar to chemotherapy, but with very different medicine. But it's also corrosive to your organs, so you won't live as long as you would have if you had completed traditional chemotherapy".

"Ok." Steve closes his eyes, humming a tune he heard Bucky vocalizing. Bruce ends up humming along, then pauses.

"Where did you hear that?" Bruce asks.

"Um, Bucky. He's been humming it for the past few days." Steve frowns when he recalls Nat's argument from earlier. "Nat called him James".

"That's his name. I think he prefers 'Bucky' because they used 'James' when he was in the army. Sergeant James Barnes".

Steve's eyes snap open. James Barnes. He knows that name. He knows that name, somehow, he knows the name. James "Bucky" Barnes. James...

"James Buchanan Barnes." Steve murmurs. He sits bolt upright suddenly. "FUCK!"

Steve starts to get up, but he's dizzy as hell. Bruce sits him back down, pushing him as his mind buzzes. James Buchanan Barnes. The name of his best friend from ages 5-8, nicknamed "Bucky" by his sister Becca. Steve never really called him that, because he used an even shorter version of the nickname; "Buck" instead of "Bucky".

"I called him "Buck". I called him a different nickname, and then I forgot about him for 15 years. I-"

"Ok, slow down. What are you talking about?" Bruce asks, pinning Steve.

"Bucky. He was my best friend when I was a kid. I met him when I was 5, he moved away when I was 8. His parents skipped town. I freaked out for three months straight, then just kind of dealt with it until I was 13 and then I forgot about him. I didn't even-" Steve slaps his face. "I didn't even recognize him. The only people who ever called him Bucky were his sister and I, but I didn't even really call him Bucky. I called him "Buck", and I've been-"

Steve cuts off, suddenly embarrassed. The person he's been crushing on for the past three weeks is his first love. The first person he ever had a crush on just happens to be the person he's been drooling over for three weeks. He doesn't even know how to bring that up in conversation.

"Oh my Goooooooood." Steve groans.

"Steve. Please tell me you're ok".

"Bruce. Bruce, he was my first crush and I'm crushing on him and he doesn't remember me and- Bruuuuuuuce!"

"Ok then." Bruce pulls the IV out, and Steve sits up, mid racing. "Have you considered asking him?"

"Bruce. How would I even-"

"He was your best friend, right? Surely you have letters, drawings, a picture?"

"I don't have-" Steve cuts off again. The hand drawn picture. That's a copy of a photograph, a picture of them both.

"Ok. I think you know what you have to do." Bruce whispers, and Steve nods, giving a wry smile.

Steve goes back down to the cafeteria, but Bucky is gone, and so is Nat.

Somehow, that ticks him off more than his little crush has been.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Buck. You got a minute?" Steve pokes his head into the teachers' lounge as Bucky bites into an apple. Nat looks up sharply from the corner where she's sitting, glaring at Steve. Bucky looks between them, then swallows and nods. "I need to talk to you".

"Джеймс. Я имел в виду то, что сказал. Держись от него подальше.[James. I meant what I said. You stay away from him.]" Nat barks. Steve is pretty sure that's Russian, but he's not sure.

To his surprise, Bucky flips her off, then marches out of the room. Steve gawks after him, then turns back to Nat.

"What the fuck did you say to him?"

"One of us has to be the voice of reason." Nat replies.

Steve just leaves to room, shutting the door behind him. Bucky is glaring at the wall, muttering in the same language Nat spoke just a little while earlier.

"Я не в любви только с идеей вас. То, что ты напоминаешь мне старого друга, не означает, что я ищу его в тебе.[I am not in love with just the idea of you. Simply because you remind me of an old friend doesn't mean I'm looking for him in you.]" Bucky turns and glares at Steve, who simply cocks his head.

"What language is that?"

Bucky blinks, not having expected that.

"Uh, Russian. What did you need me for?"

"Two things; 1, where have you been all week, and 2, I wanted to show you something I think you'll find interesting".

"Let's start with thing 2." Bucky hisses, running a hand through his hair, swearing when it catches on the tangles. Steve hands him the notebook, open to the page of the photograph. "This looks-"

Bucky stops, then looks at Steve, a mixture of confusion and pain in his eyes.

"That right there is me and my best friend from when I was a kid. I would have been 7 when this picture was taken, and he would have been 8. He looks kind of familiar, no?"

Bucky gently touches the picture, clearly reeling. Steve taps his shoulder, grabbing his attention.

"How do you have this picture? You- Stevie?" Bucky eyes fill with tears, and he returns his gaze to the picture. "Stevie... My Stevie? My stupid punk?"

"Heya, Jerk." Steve smiles, opening his arms. Bucky all but falls into Steve's arms, sobbing as Steve holds him close. "I'm here, Buck. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere".

"I thought I'd never see you again." Bucky sniffles into Steve's shoulder. Steve holds him, whispering a litany of "I'm here", "It's ok", "I'm not going anywhere".

"We have so much to catch up on." Steve says after a minute, and Bucky gives a dry laugh. "I couldn't believe it, you know. I asked Bruce about why Nat called you James, Bruce told me it's cause it was your name, and I put the rest together from there".

"God, punk." Bucky laughs, smiling against tears. "Is now a bad time to mention I've had the biggest crush you for forever?"

"This would be the perfect time to mention that." Steve smiles, holding Bucky. "You know, you were my first crush?"

"I should, you told me the second you caught feelings for me".

"Oh, jeez, I did, didn't I?"

"For someone with a perfect memory-"

"Hey, hey! We never said playing dirty was allowed!" Steve laughs as Nat pokes her head out the door, opening her mouth to say something. "Can I have a kiss?"

"Mmmm..." Bucky gives Steve the side eye, then laughs. "Ok. But just a little one".

Steve catches Bucky's cheek and slowly presses his lips down against Bucky's, biting flesh slowly and allowing his tongue to explore all the reaches of Bucky's mouth. After a minute, he pulls away, only to come right back, and how the second kiss is sweeter, much more deep and perfect than the first. Nat mutters something in Russian behind them, and Bucky pulls away just long enough to glare at him before he returns to kissing Steve.

"You are amazing, you know that?" Steve murmurs when Bucky pulls away again. "The bad part is now we have to go teach classes".

"Yeah, that kind of sucks. I can think of a few other places I'd rather be." Bucky glares at Nat, then barks out in Russian; "Я же тебе говорил, Таша. Я знаю, что делаю, и тебе следует больше доверять своим друзьям[I told you so, Tasha. I know what I'm doing, and you should have more faith in your friends]".

"Mm, scary." Steve pulls Bucky closer, then asks something only he can hear.

"No. I have a better idea, and it'll be hilarious to watch them implode." Bucky whispers the idea into Steve's ear, and then the bell rings, and Steve feels like he's floating all the way to his class.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Psst!" Steve looks up at Bucky, who's grinning at him through the door. Steve watches him sign the word for plan, and then smiles. Steve makes a dramatic shooing motion, smirking as one of his students catches it.

"Mr. Rogers, is someone there?" Suddenly the class is looking at Steve, who does his best to feign guilty lying. The class catches it, and they start leaning forward. "Mr. Rogers, who's there?"

Steve is cut off by a foam dart sticking to his sweater. A blue dart with a orange tip. He fucking planned this...

"Did you fucking do this?" Steve glares at the doorway, where Bucky clicks his tongue and fingerguns at him.

"You've been nerfed!" Someone shouts, and of course, the class loses it. Steve rolls his eyes, then grins at the door.

"Who'd you have to kill to get my spoon?" Steve chuckles when Bucky opens the door.

"No one, actually. It's why I couldn't help you kill Tony. I had yours and you had mine. Kind of romantic, actually." Bucky waves at the class from his position by the door. Steve is now prepared for the part of the plan they actually discussed.

"Ro-Romantic? I'm sorry?" Steve fakes shock. "I-"

"Aw, did I throw you off? I'm sorry." Bucky leans down and whispers in his ear. It's supposed be just a few things about what they plan to do later for dinner and such, but instead Bucky says some very real things that bring a hot flush to Steve's cheeks. "I'm so ready to have you spread out under me, your wrists caught so you can't reach your dick. You know, I can think of a few uses for that edible lube, but you have to promise not to squirm".

"Oh-Kay! Don't you have a class to teach?" Steve pushes Bucky aside, ignoring the very sudden desire to kiss Bucky hard. Bucky smirks, then leans down for a kiss.

"Gimme some love, sugar?"

"You said we were going to fake it!" Steve hisses.

"Mhm, but you blush so easy, honey." Bucky says much louder than necessary. "Besides, what other excuse am I going to get to make you blush outside of St. Valentine's day? I gotta take my chances where I get them. Remember our deal, sugar".

Bucky saunters out of the room, and Steve is torn between throwing a fit and just straight up melting. The choice gets made for him when someone asks very loudly "Was that the new self-defense teacher?", and the class descends on him.

It takes all Steve all of thirty minutes to plot revenge. He saunters into the gym during sixth period, catching Bucky off guard when he nuzzles into his neck, snaking his hands around Bucky's chest and waist. Bucky tries to pull away, but Steve holds him close, nipping Bucky's collar bone in the way he's found drives Bucky crazy. And Bucky goes stock still, and Steve knows he's won. 

"Revenge, gorgeous." Steve hisses, bringing his mouth close to Bucky's ear. "As I recall, sugar, our deal did not include something that would take me 15 minutes to calm down from, but it does include revenge. And you should know, darling, that I don't play nice when I'm turned on. And when I play dirty..."

Steve quickly pulls away, pushing Bucky when he steps back searching for contact. Bucky turns on him quickly and Steve kisses him hard, hard enough to fry his brain. Bucky starts to melt, and that's when Steve pulls away, pushing Bucky away from the contact he's seeking.

"Your turn, doll." Steve says loudly, then saunters out of the gym. He knows that they'll be barraged by students all of tomorrow, but the cookie his left in Bucky's pocket should help with that. And as Steve plays with rose Bucky left on his desk, he smiles, thinking about how if he hadn't agreed to draw Bucky, this probably wouldn't have happened the way it did. He's glad it did. He missed this.

"Happy Valentine's day, Buck".


	2. A Different Set of Lenses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky got back from military tour six months ago. Life has seemed impossible for him, and he never thought he'd wind up.... Teaching?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to do a couple of background fics to add on to Class Dismissed proper, so here.

Bucky's eyes snap open, a cold shiver pushing through him as the stump of his left arm throbs, sharp hot pain pulsing on the inside. He pulls his knit blanket a little tighter around himself, shuddering as cold air hits his bare torso. Ever since he got back he's always cold. Whatever they did to him, it's not just killing him; he's come to terms with the truth of a shortened lifespan, but apparently he has to suffer on the way out, too.

"проклятый холод[damn chill]." He mutters, shaking his head violently when the words come out in the wrong language. "Fuck. Fucking cold ass..."

A survey of his room reveals he's not alone, and the sudden pounding in his head reveals why. The throbbing in his arm grows stronger as his alarm beeps loudly, causing him to flinch in pain. On the other side of the room, his therapist sits up, glaring. Bucky swipes at the alarm at the same time Sam falls over, cursing.

"Fucking spent the night on accident, got to go, I have appointments-" Sam hustles around the room, muttering under his breath before giving up and turning to Bucky. "BARNES!"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. Shower's on your left, just go. I'll drop of the rest of your shit tomorrow." Bucky hisses when Sam opens the bathroom door, throwing light on his highly sensitive eyes. He gets dressed slowly, the pain in his head and arm upsetting his stomach, to the point where he has to rush to the kitchen so he doesn't throw up on the floor. He retches violently into the sink, his arm and legs shaking as he tries to stand. Today is one of *those* days, apparently, and it also seems to have nothing to do with the stale taste of alcohol in his mouth. Somehow, that makes it worse.

"You good?" Sam's voice comes from somewhere behind him, and he waves it off, opening his mouth to answer but instead unleashing another loud retch. Sam comes over and shadows him, unsure if he can approach. Bucky removes the choice when his legs give out and he clings to the sink, arm shaking as he tries to pull himself up. If he can stand on his own, then no one will have to touch him, and then maybe he'll make it through today without a panic attack. Then his grip gives out, and he falls backwards, knocking his head on a cabinet as he falls. Between his shaking limbs and his sudden dizziness, refusing help is not an option.

It doesn't matter how much he tries to prepare for it, the sudden pressure of Sam's hand on his shoulder always makes him panic, his breathing quickening into frantic sobs as Sam helps him to the couch. A soft blanket gets tossed around his shoulders, and he grips it tightly, pulling the cloth around him as he shivers.

"Bucky. Can you do 'five things' for me?" Sam's voice is soft, quiet. Quiet is good, quiet means content. Quiet means he has nothing to be afraid of. "Bucky, can you hear me?"

_Respond _"I-I can hear-hear- I can hear you".__

__"Good. Can you do 'five things' for me?"_ _

__"I- I don't-" _Stop stuttering, idiot! _"I don't know".___ _

____"Alright. Can you tell me what happened?"_ _ _ _

____Bucky knows that Sam is just trying to ground him, but that question makes him angry. Sam knows exactly what happened, he touched Bucky. He *touched* Bucky, and now Bucky has to shower so he can scrub the feeling of someone's hand on his bare skin out of his mind. But first, he has to fucking get up, and he can't fucking move._ _ _ _

____"Bucky? Can you-"_ _ _ _

____"You fucking know exactly what happened, Samuel. Don't fucking pretend you don't-" He's spiraling, he can feel it. _Get a grip! _"SHUT UP!"___ _ _ _

______Bucky resurfaces, just barely, and as he registers Sam sitting calmly across from him, a hiccupping sob escapes him, driving him down into the depths of his mind, like a boulder slamming into him. He can barely register anything outside of his heaving chest and sporadic breathing, and then he doesn't register anything at all, his hand sliding limply into his lap. Vaguely, he can hear Sam talking to someone, someone that isn't him, but he can't hear much else outside of that._ _ _ _ _ _

______Slowly, very slowly, he comes back to reality, the gaping void in his heart numbing him to the stimuli of the world around him. Sam is sitting across from him, doing paperwork as classical music plays. Bucky hates classical music. He much prefers jazz, with swinging trumpets and drum beats and the occasional sax solo. Classical music is too slow, too... intimate. If he wants music that will make him cry, he'll listen to old songs._ _ _ _ _ _

______"I like jazz." Bucky mutters when Sam turns his phone over. Sam looks up sharply, then gives a dry chuckle. "I mean, can we please listen to jazz?"_ _ _ _ _ _

______"If you want. Are you all the way back?" Sam asks, putting on a jazz song that Bucky knows by heart at this point._ _ _ _ _ _

______"I'm pretty damn close, if that counts for anything"._ _ _ _ _ _

______"It doesn't. You know what happened last time"._ _ _ _ _ _

______"I'm sorry." Bucky murmurs, feeling a twinge of guilt. Last time he spiraled like this, he didn't let himself get all the way back before he tried to unpack it, and he almost- no, he *did*- attack Sam. No one had been hurt, but Bucky still felt bad about it. He was dangerous, and more so now that he was around civilians, people who had no training, no experience, people who could, and did, straight up die from falling down the stairs. He was a trained sniper with hand to hand experience, and he was constantly surrounded by normal people. He could kill someone._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Barnes, I'm losing you again." Sam says loudly. Bucky shakes his head, dislodging some of the "fuzz", as Sam calls it. "You back?"_ _ _ _ _ _

______"You shouldn't be here." Bucky isn't back, if anything, he's spiraling again. He could kill someone. He knows how, and in the midst of a panic attack, he might. "You shouldn't be here, I could- you might- I don't want-"_ _ _ _ _ _

______Sam's phone dings, and Bucky damn near breaks a leg trying to get away from the sound. Sam checks the offending box, then frowns. Standing, he mutters something about how he did not sign up for this shit, then calls somebody._ _ _ _ _ _

______"I'm with a client, Nat!" Bucky snickers at Sam's expression. "Aren't you supposed to be in class?... What do you mean, he quit? He was only there for one semester! Yeah, no, I got that- Nat, We can't lose another- Natasha, listen to me. We can't lose another self defense teacher, ok? Parents are going after you and me for Erik's decision, there's only so much he can do against that before his only choice is to- Goddamnit, Romanov, will you listen a second!"_ _ _ _ _ _

______Now Bucky is very interested. Natasha Romanov isn't an uncommon name, but it isn't exactly widespread in the US. He wobbles to the window and peers from the blinds, spotting a short redhead with a very obvious scowl. With a quick look up, the red head locks eyes with him, and Bucky drops the blinds._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Маленький паук[Little spider]." Bucky murmurs as he drops the blinds, stepping back quickly. Tasha is here, she got out. She made it! Bucky feels a fluttering warmth in the pit of his stomach, and it takes him a second to realize that this feeling is excitement. It's been so long since he's felt anything outside of panic and pain he didn't even realize he could still feel._ _ _ _ _ _

______"You ok?" Sam asks, but Bucky hardly hears him, he's pulling on his shoes before he can even register what he's doing. Three flights of stairs later, he's bursting out the front door, yelling Tasha's name as the sharp December chill bites his skin._ _ _ _ _ _

______Tasha recognizes him immediately, he can see it in her eyes. She doesn't look anything close to the 23 years old she actually is, but there's plenty of reasons for that. Once she finishes fully observing Bucky, she breaks into an easy smile, and Bucky relaxes, dropping anticipation he hadn't realized was there. She approaches slowly, as if he might hug her, but he won't. They both know that._ _ _ _ _ _

______"You got out." Tasha says, and then again, in Russian. "Вы вышли. Ты сделал это, ты сумасшедший сукин сын[You got out. You made it, you crazy son of a bitch]. I didn't think you would"._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Ye of little faith." Bucky laughs, then gestures inside, turning to see Sam in the doorway._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Uh..." Sam looks between the two of them, then hangs up his phone call, muttering under his breath. "Ok, so you two know each other?"_ _ _ _ _ _

______"In a sense. I'll take care of this." Tasha pats Sam's arm, then glides inside. Bucky follows her to his apartment, shucking off his shoes almost the second he gets inside. Once he does, Tasha points to his couch and says the Russian word for "sit", which he does. Some of the euphoria is wearing off, and Bucky can't fully express how much he hates the numb feeling it will leave. Tasha moves around his kitchen, looking through drawers and asking him if he wants tea._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Tea would be nice. What did Sam mean, 'you're supposed to be in class'? Are you a student?"_ _ _ _ _ _

______"Straight to the questions, James?" Tasha chuckles, and Bucky relaxes further. She has to be the only person on earth who still calls him by his real name that won't set him off in doing so. Everyone else is gone. "I'm a teacher, actually. I teach self defense at The Academy for the Gifted in upstate New York. It's been good, you know? I needed a job, but no place would take me because I wasn't a citizen, and then the Academy put out an ad for teachers. Figured I could bullshit my way through the interview. That did not work out at all, they saw right through me. Gave a job as a substitute while I was getting my Bachelor's degree, and then hired me on full time about a year ago. It's a good place. They believe in second chances"._ _ _ _ _ _

______"I could use a place that believes in second chances right about now." Bucky grumbles, glaring at the mess of bills on his coffee table. "You'd be surprised how many places refuse to hire vets on principle. Kind of sucks"._ _ _ _ _ _

______"I believe it." Tasha hands him a mug of tea, which Bucky takes without much thought. After a minute, she snaps with a loud "Oh!", grabbing Bucky's attention. "You got your bachelor's, right?"_ _ _ _ _ _

______"One bachelor's in Math Education with an emphasis on Mechanics. Only damn thing the army was good for." Bucky winces when he burns his tongue on the tea. "Ouch! That's hot"._ _ _ _ _ _

______"You could apply to be a sub at the Academy!" Tasha has a broad smile until she seems to remember something. "Oh, wait... The Red Room"._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Yeah. That's not an option." Bucky growls at the floor. "I mean, Tasha, I'm barely ok to be around adults. What the hell's gonna happen if I try to work with kids? And knowing what the Red Room made me do, who they made me kill and why... I can't teach kids. There's already children out there that are learning from recordings of me trying to escape, I can't-"_ _ _ _ _ _

______"Hey. You don't have to. It was just an idea. Honestly, I think you'll be fine around the kids. I think it's the adults that will make you nervous. Erik is loud as hell, Charles is wicked good at reading people, Steve is emotional, Tony is tactless, and Sam is nosey. That's not to mention Pepper, Bruce, Logan, Jean, or even Clint, much less any of the other teachers. You'd hate it." Tasha seems to muse on it, then shakes her head. "No. I don't think you'd like it at all"._ _ _ _ _ _

______Something about the way she says it intrigues him, and after she leaves, he spends far longer than he should looking up the academy. He notices very quickly that it's a private school, which means better security. It's also very prone to attack by kidnappers, which makes sense, all the students are either trust fund babies or there on scholarship. And the last teacher just quit..._ _ _ _ _ _

______"They believe in second chances. I need a second chance." Bucky murmurs. He clicks on the link for the Principal's email, typing out a long essay he never plans to send. In the future, he'll think about how lucky he is that the send button and the delete button are that close to each other._ _ _ _ _ _

______~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_ _ _ _ _ _

______"Late, late, late!" Bucky bolts out the door, nearly tripping in the sudden flutter of mail that was shoved into his door crack falling. He scoops up the offending letters, shoving them into his pocket. More late fees, and probably some from his internet company too, fucking thing crapped out on him a week ago and he still hasn't scrapped together enough to pay for it. He nearly trips again at the bottom of the stairs, trying to avoid Mrs. Sarentano, his landlady, but he still catches her sharp, "Mr. Barnes, your rent is late!"_ _ _ _ _ _

______"Can't talk, super late, promise I'll have it by next week, bye!" Bucky bolts out the door and all but sprints to the VA, bursting through the door at the last minute. Several eyes are on him as he goes to sign in, but the girl behind the counter, Bucky thinks her name is Carly, stops him with a quick "um, what are you doing?". Bucky frowns, then glares at the paper._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Today is Wednesday, right?"_ _ _ _ _ _

______"Yeah, but, Sam changed his hours, remember? He does night sessions now"._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Shit, right." Bucky groans, glaring at the clock. His session isn't for another three hours, and now he can't go home because Mrs. Sarentano will be up his ass for rent. He leaves, sulking, and makes his way to a local park, glaring at the pile of bills in his pocket. He sorts through them, glowering._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Bills, bills, bills. Fucking bills, why does everything cost money? What do you want me to pay for, hmm? Water, Internet, Heat, School..." Bucky pauses a few seconds later, the backtracks to the one letter in the bunch that isn't a bill. The large crest in the corner of the envelope is the same crest that he saw on the website he looked up two weeks ago. The Gifted Academy, or something like that. The letter is definitely addressed to him, but he can't fathom how they got his address._ _ _ _ _ _

______"What the fuck?" Bucky moves to sit on a bench, opening the letter slowly after he shoves the rest in his pocket. "This isn't fucking funny. Seriously"._ _ _ _ _ _

______What he reads next changes everything._ _ _ _ _ _

_______Dear Mr. Barnes,_ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______Thank you for offering your services. However, I must say you don't seem incredibly sure of yourself, despite offering to temporarily teach our self defense class. I strongly believe that you must never judge an individual based on first impression alone, So I am inclined to offer you an interview, at your discretion, of course. Moreover, I have received several good reports on your behalf by one Mr. Samuel Wilson and one Ms. Natasha Romanov. They both seem confident that you would be capable of preforming well in this role. I'm envious for you; I can't imagine having such good friends_ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______You mentioned your recent return from military tour in your email. I do feel incredibly sorry for you; in a perfect world, there would be no reason for brave men and women to fight and die, and of course, there would be no trauma or pain on the behalf of war. That being said, I do understand the cultural tendency to avoid hiring members who were or are part of our military, and I hope to not at all join in it. As you said in your email, we "believe in second chances", and would be more than willing to extend such a second chance to you._ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______Mr. Barnes, you strike me as someone who would work very well with adolescents, and I do believe that everyone deserves a second chance. If that second chance is all you need, then I would be honored to extend it. Please, if you are interested in pursuing this line of work, contact me via email or by phone call at XXX-XXX-XXXX. Ask for Erik Lehnsherr or myself, Charles Xavier. We would be honored to have you as a member of our faculty._ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________My best wishes to you,  
Charles Xavier, Professor of Psychology  
The Academy for the Gifted, New York. ____ _

________Bucky's not sure how long he stares at the letter before he crumples it up and throws it, pissed off and confused._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"What fucking email?" He shouts, glaring at the wad of paper in the grass. He huffs, then stands, intending to walk away. He takes two steps, then turns back to the letter. He sighs, then picks it up, glaring at the crumpled ball in his hand. "This is a prank. Some kids or whatever hacked my email and found it the draft and fucking thought it'd be funny to-"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Bucky stalks around, alternating between glaring at the letter in his hand and muttering like a crazy person. This has to be fake, right? He might believe that this place does give out second chances, but that kind of shit doesn't happen to people like him. He's a mess, a walking disaster, and also the unluckiest person in the history of ever. And even if the letter was real, how the fuck did they get an email that he never fucking sent? But it still made more sense for the letter to be real than for it to be some kind of elaborate prank._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"What the fuck?" Bucky growls, jumping when his phone buzzes. He pulls it out, cursing when he sees the reminder for his appointment with Sam flashing on the screen. He sprints for the VA, getting there five minutes before his appointment, right at the same time Sam does, actually. Sam makes his "Uh..." face, and Bucky puts out his arms in a "ta-da" motion. "Hey look! I'm early!"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"You fucking ran, didn't you?" Sam rolls his eyes, signing Bucky in at the front desk. "I told you, nothing that might mess with your breathing. That includes running, Barnes"._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"Ok." Bucky bounces on the balls of his feet, a surge of energy fueling his frantic motions. Excitement, he realizes after a moment. He's excited. "I have something to show you"._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"Oh?" Sam drops his stuff inside his office, and Bucky all but shoves the letter in his hand. Sam reads it, his eyes getting wider and wider with every line. "That fucking son of a bitch, he fucking-"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"I- I think I want to try." Bucky blurts out, surprising Sam. Surprising himself. "I- Sam, if this is real, I need this. No one will hire me, I'm a week behind on rent, and I've had no internet for the past week. I don't even know how they got that email, I never sent it, but if this is real..."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"Alright, alright, calm down. I don't disagree, I think working with kids would be good for you, it's a very different environment than what you'd be used to. I think if you feel comfortable with the idea, go for it"._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"I- I need to call him. I don't have any data, but..." Bucky sits on the couch, practically vibrating. "I'm so nervous, Sam, but also really fucking excited. Is that normal?"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"You really fucking went straight into the military after high school, didn't you?" Sam scoffs, then sits in front of Bucky, clearly interested. "Do you even have your bachelor's degree?"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"Yeah. What's the wifi password for the VA?" Bucky asks, pulling out his phone._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"Hey, hey, hey. Focus on the session, then you can do your phone interview, mkay?"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________The session goes much slower than Bucky would like, but they do talk about a few of Bucky's more prominent concerns, which means it wasn't a complete waste of time. Ten minutes short of the session ending, Sam gives Bucky the wifi password, and he calls the number. Three rings in, and someone picks up._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"New York Academy for the Gifted. This is Professor Xavier speaking, how may I help you?" Mr. Xavier sounds kind, and he isn't someone Bucky feels afraid of, unlike every other new person he's ever met._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"I- Um, my name is Bucky Barnes. I got a letter from you.." Bucky trails off, feeling awkward. "I was told to ask for either you or Mr. Lehnsherr"._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"Oh! Mr. Barnes, I was wondering when we were going to hear from you!" Mr. Xavier has a bright voice, and Bucky can swear he hears a smile. "Yes, I sent that letter. Our attempts to email you weren't working very well, but you seemed incredibly enthusiastic about the job, so I attempted a different medium"._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"Um, yeah, my service provider cut off my internet. I'm kind of dead broke." Bucky winces when he says it. _Stupid, why would you do that?_ "I'm sorry for not getting back to you sooner".___ _ _ _ _ _

__________"It's perfectly alright, Mr. Barnes. Now, would you like to schedule an interview? We are very anxious to get a new self defense teacher, and I'm sure you'd like to be able to pay your bills." Mr. Xavier chuckles, and Bucky feels considerably more at ease._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"I'd like that very much, Mr. Xavier"._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"Please, call me Charles. Now, Mr. Barnes, when would you be free to come up and do an interview?"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"Come up? As in, upstate?" Bucky gets nervous at that. Since being back, he's hasn't gone on any public transportation, and certainly hasn't gone anywhere with lots of people. He makes himself calm down a little, realizing that if he gets this job, he's going to have to interact with people daily. "I, um, I'm kind of free all week. So, whenever's good for you, I guess"._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"There's no need to be nervous, Mr. Barnes-"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"Bucky"._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"Beg pardon?" Charles says, sounding mildly confused. Bucky realizes he blurted that out, and blushes sharply._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"I, um, I prefer 'Bucky'. If you would"._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"Of course. There's no need to be nervous, Bucky. Now, I think I'll have you come up at the end of the week, before the weekend. Does that sound good?"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"Yeah, that sounds great. Thanks"._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"Good. Now, Mr. Lehnsherr will be conducting your interview, but I will pop in to check up on you, alright? And you said your phone doesn't have data, can I take that to mean you will be unable to contact us and vice versa?"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"Yeah. Sorry"._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"You don't need to apologize, Bucky. I understand that these things happen. Now, I'll see you Friday, and your interview will be at... does 2 o'clock work?"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"That should be perfect, actually. Thank you"._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"Of course. Goodbye, Bucky"._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"How do you do one of these?" Bucky grumbles, fumbling with the tie Sam lent him. After a few minutes, he gives up, throwing it to the side in favor of leaving on time._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________On the hour long bus ride to the academy, Bucky swings wildly between excited and terrified, finally settling on terrified as he steps off the bus. He walks inside, relaying to the secretary that he's here for an interview. He waits patiently for his turn, noticing the many other interviewees in the room. He tries to look as professional as possible._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Then a kid falls in his lap. Quite literally. The scrawny brunet falls from the vents in the ceiling, catching himself just enough to not be brutally injured by the fall, but also landing solidly on Bucky's lap before falling onto the floor._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"Oof!" The kid groans as Bucky yelps "Jesus fucking Christ!", startling several grown men around him. Most *tsk* at him, turning away after a minute, but a few watch, as if contented to watch their competition go up in flames._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"Ow. Who did I land on?" The kid looks up and is almost instantly aware of Bucky's missing arm, the sleeve knot at the base of his stump. "Ohmygod, I'm so sorry! Are you ok? Did I hurt you? Oh, fuck, I'm going to be in so much trouble!"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"Don't worry, it was already missing when you got here." Bucky smiles, which actually seems to relax the kid. "Are you a student here? Aren't you supposed to be in class?"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"I'm ditching. You're probably here about the SD teacher position, right? I kind of liked Mr. Fury, he was cool." The kid, who was sitting with his legs crossed like a pretzel, is now rocking side to side with his hands on his ankles. "I'm Peter, by the way. Peter Parker"._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"Bucky Barnes." Bucky extends his hand, and Peter takes it, shaking with a firm grip, but letting go quickly in favor of grabbing his ankle again. The word 'stimming' pops into his head, though he isn't sure why. Maybe because that's what Sam calls it when he plays with his water bottle, like he's doing now._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"So, Mr. Barnes, can I ask how you lost your arm, or is that rude?"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"Call me Bucky, and no, it's not that rude. I was in the military, ran into an issue while on patrol. Woke up in a hospital with it missing." That's not exactly a lie, but Peter doesn't have to know about the POW camp that was fucking him up for three years. "Came back a little over five months ago. Your turn"._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"Huh?"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"What were you doing in the vents?"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"Escaping." Peter lays on the floor and stares at the ceiling. "Our teacher was doing a lecture where I already know everything, and I got bored, so I left. Plus, some kid in my class bet I couldn't reach the vents and I got sixteen dollars out of it, so who's the sucker now!"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"Huh. But the vents? That shit's nasty!"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"Yeah, no kidding. Last time I did that I ate a spider"._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Bucky nearly chokes on his water, the liquid shooting out of his nose as he cackles at Peter's expression. Bucky wheezes as he tries to speak, laughing loudly as he manages two syllables. The people around him are clearly annoyed, but he doesn't much care. Petr himself goes from looking confused to stifling giggles, and then to laughing himself._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"You ate a spider!? Why?" Bucky covers his eyes as he breaks into giggles._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"It was an accident! It fell into my mouth while I was singing in the vents!"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"It fell- Oh my gaaaaawd." Bucky barks another laugh, cackling as Peter tries to look frustrated, but failing multiple times puts the boy's face back into it's jovial countenance. "Wy didn't you just move it?"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"It wasn't bugging me." Peter gives a sigh, then shrugs. "Man, I hope you end up as our teacher. Most of our subs have been horrible"._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"Me too, Spider boy." Bucky smiles when he says it, but Peter actually does scowl this time. "Oh, that touched a nerve. Sorry"._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"It's ok"._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"It's clearly not, it pissed you off for whatever reason and if you want me to stop, I will." Bucky gives a soft smile, then looks up when his name is called. A tall, glowering man glares at him, and Bucky turns to wave to Peter, but he's already gone._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Mr. Lehnsherr isn't one to mince his words, Bucky soon discovers. If anything, he's brutally honest, but still kind. Bucky is nervous until Charles pokes his head into the room, and Erik very clearly pretends to be annoyed._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"I brought you coffee." Charles says, pushing the door open with a wheelchair. Bucky immediately stands and moves his chair over so Charles can get past, but Charles shakes his head. "I appreciate the sentiment, but I've been using one of these for half my life. I can do just fine on my own"._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"I apologize for underestimating you, then." Bucky smiles easily, then returns his chair. Erik is regarding him with something that almost looks like respect, but Bucky's not sure why. "Is something wrong, Mr. Lehnsherr?"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Erik blinks in shock at that line. "I told you he was a smart one." Charles murmurs, biting back a snicker._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"You did. I didn't believe you. I owe you both an apology for that." Erik takes the coffee Charles offers him, then snags the wheelchair and pecks Charles on the cheek. "Last one, I promise"._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"You said that three kisses ago." Charles rolls his eyes, then turns to Bucky with a 'see what I have to put up with?' look. "Look at this! Ridiculous!"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"Hey, I don't comment on other people's relationships. Plus, I have no right to judge in any way"._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"I told you he was a good one." Charles says, then leaves as quickly as he came in. Erik presses the knuckles of his folded hands against his mouth, hiding an incredibly small smile._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"He's a blessing." Erik smiles quickly before returning to business mode, asking Bucky questions about his experience teaching and all that. After about half an hour, Erik nods, then stands sharply. "Right! You're an honest young man, very kind, and I think you'd do well with students. You're hired. I expect to see you here on Monday at six, sharp"._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Erik hands him a piece of paper and shoves him out the door, saying "Give that to Charles, he'll know what it means". Bucky barely has time to blink before the next interviewee is brought in and the door is shut behind him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"What the fu-" Bucky hears a cough from directly next to him and sees Charles sitting there with a tablet in his lap. Bucky goes very red, then hands Charles the paper. "I was told to give this to you"._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"Oh, dear." Charles looks at the paper, then up at Bucky, clearly amused. "You won him over. I hope you appreciate how difficult to do that is"._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"I had no idea." Bucky says smartly._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Charles proceeds to give him a tour of the school and tells him about everything his roles on campus, and how he will be living on campus unless he'd rather make the commute from downtown every day, which he doesn't. Charles even stops by a classroom where a man is gesturing wildly at a blackboard with physics equations on it, handing over a paper while Bucky hides from sight. Bucky hears the man laugh loudly and say "Ok, Charles, whatever you say!", but still doesn't move from his spot until Charles comes back._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________The last stop they make is to Natasha's classroom, where she's doing yoga with various children, one of whom Bucky recognizes. Peter grins at him from the middle of his downward dog, then waves. Tasha scowls at him, then smiles, giving a happy laugh. They chat and Bucky leaves feeling confident he's going to like working at the academy._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"Ugh. Why did I think it was a good idea to wake up so early?" Bucky mutters, pushing his hair out of his face, groaning as students flock from the gym. It's literally his first day of class, and yet he's exhausted, his hair falling in his face. His sixth period is staring at him as he steps into the ring, swiping at the student in front of him as they stand there awkwardly. "Well, c'mon, hit me!"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"I don't want to hurt you." The student stammers. Bucky just sighs, then beckons the kid forward. The kid does actually try to hit Bucky, but fails miserably, and Bucky sweeps his leg, dropping the kid._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"You don't shield your legs. Your stance is wonderful, but none of you shield your legs. Jesus fucking Christ, who taught you?" Bucky slaps a hand over his face, vaguely aware of a blond dot in the corner of his vision. "I mean, Jesus Christ, I'm not only going easy on you, but I have one fucking arm!"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________The blond dot freezes, and when Bucky turns, baby blue eyes filled with shock and admiration. Bucky feels shock run through him; this guy is fucking gorgeous, and he also looks completely underprepared for meeting Bucky, which means he can gain the upper hand in the awkwardness of staring down the most beautiful man he's ever seen. The blond suddenly blushes, and Bucky has to look away before he completely loses his composure, his eyes darting to Peter, who smiled at him. Bucky smiles back, giving a small laugh._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"You're late." Bucky grins at Peter, then returns his gaze to the blond, settling his features into a blank slate, trying to tamp down the sudden feeling of fluttering in his stomach. Damn, this blondie is cute! "And who's this, Spider boy?"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"I tell one person that story." Peter grumbles, then grins. Bucky smiles again, then lets Peter introduce him to this hella hot blond mess. "This is Mr. Rogers. He teaches Advanced Art and Drawing"._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________He's stupid hot _, Bucky thinks, pushing more hair out of his face. _God, I hope I see more of him in the future _.____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________"Steve." Bucky smiles at his friend, who looks up at him from where he's doodling on the couch. Bucky smiles tiredly, nestling into his boyfriend's arm with practiced ease. "Had a dream 'bout you"._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________"Oh? How's that?"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________"Fell asleep. Dreamt you went to prom with me"._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________"Really?" Steve chuckles as Bucky nestles further into his arms. "I didn't go to prom. I was too sick"._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________"M'sorry." Bucky mumbles again, burying his face in the crook of Steve's arm. "Also dreamt about meeting you again. Memories"._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________"Is that so? Wanna tell me about it?" Steve smiles as Bucky blearily mumbles and whispers about his dreams, talking in a low voice that forces Steve to respond to him. In the two months since he got here, he's fallen more and more in love with the person who used to be his best friend, a lifetime ago. The funny part was, a lifetime ago, adults would have frowned at him for kissing Steve._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________And now they can't do anything about it._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Author's Note:**

> If you want me to make this a series let me know.


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